Lima Loser
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: Burt Hummel was just another Lima loser- a college dropout with an unexpectedly pregnant girlfriend. But he underestimated things. After all, Mollie would have never settled for a loser, and their son was certainly meant for great things.
1. From August of 1990 to October of 1993

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

She dropped the bomb on him as casually as she would have mentioned the nice weather or her new haircut. He stared at her, mouth agape. The roaring in his ears drowned out anything she might be saying, and all her could think was how on earth did this happen?

But really, in retrospect, he should have seen it coming.

_August of 1989_

Burt lounged in his desk, propping his feet up on the empty seat in front of him. It was really too warm to wear his letterman's jacket, but he liked wearing it on the first day of school anyways. And besides, he was a senior. He could do what he wanted.

He ran his hand through his ash-blond hair, still short from his summer haircut, and tried to listen to the homeroom teacher droning through the roll call list. School had been in session for ten minutes, and his senioritis was already killing him.

The door creaked open, halting the teacher in mid-sentence and making every student turn their head. A petite girl stepped into the classroom, her long hair swishing against her shoulders as she readjusted her backpack.

"Can I help you?" the teacher inquired.

"I'm not sure I have the right room," she said. "Are you Mrs. Wilcox?"

The teacher frowned. "She's in the freshman hall," she said. "This is the senior hall."

The girl flushed rosy pink, but she smiled. "Thank you," she said brightly, turning on her heel and letting the classroom door swing shut behind her.

A couple of the bigger football players snickered and the teacher glowered. "Settle down," she said, returning to the dull chore of calling roll.

He stared after the closed door. _She's cute, _he thought. _Really cute._

"…Hummel, Burt?"

He sat up straighter. "Here," he said.

It wasn't going to do any good to think about her. He was a senior, and there were football games to win. He didn't need to busy himself with thoughts of a pretty little freshman.

_December of 1989_

Burt was certain of two things in life- that Duke sucked, and that the apple pie at Brass Kettle was better than any other pie he'd ever had. He got into a bad habit of stopping by after his weekend job working at the garage for a piece of pie. Sure, he probably would be better off saving his money for his tuition fees at school- a football scholarship could only get him so far- but for right now, it was worth it.

The bells above the door jangled musically as he let himself into the café and brushed the snow off his shoulders. "Take a seat, honey, we'll be right with you," the old hostess said.

He sat down in a corner booth and pulled the folded-up sports section of the newspaper out of his pocket. Carefully he unfolded it and smoothed out the wrinkles so he could read his football stats.

"What can I get for you?"

He looked up into a pair of large blue-green eyes framed in long dark lashes. "Oh," he said, startled.

She wrinkled her nose. "Did I surprise you?" she said.

"You go to McKinley, right?" he blurted out.

"Mm-hm," she said warily, readjusting the pink headband in her light brown hair. "I'm a freshman."

"Yeah, I…" He cleared his throat. "I'm-"

"You're Burt Hummel," she finished, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Football player…senior. Pretty much everybody knows you."

He ducked his head and grinned. "Yeah, well," he said. "I'll have to start all over again next year. College…you know."

"I know," she said. She tugged on the white frilled apron that covered her pink collared dress. "So, do you want anything?"

"Apple pie and a coke, please," he said.

She wrote it down in her little notepad. He leaned closer, trying to get a glimpse of her nametag. She looked up and snapped the notebook shut. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

He leaned back, fiddling with the back strap of his baseball cap. "I was just trying to see your name," he apologized.

She smiled, her big eyes lighting up. "It's Mollie," she said. "Mollie Melrose."

Mollie held out her hand. Burt reached out and shook it gently, his big broad fingers closing easily over her slender ones.

_March of 1990_

Burt sat at his corner booth like he did every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. Except it wasn't the weekend. It was Thursday.

Mollie walked across the nearly empty café towards him and halted beside his table. "Here's your receipt," she said, setting it down in front of him.

He stared at it. "Thanks," he said.

She folded her arms across her stomach. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

Mollie frowned. "You ate twelve pieces of pie," she said. "And drank four cokes. That's not fine."

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. There was no telling if it was the sugar or the caffeine- or maybe both- but she had never looked prettier. "Can I have another piece of pie?" he asked.

Mollie rolled her eyes and slid into the seat across from him. "Burt," she said. "We're closing. And you ate all of our pie."

"Oh," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…since you're closing…can I drive you home?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "My dad'll be here in ten minutes to take me home. Thanks, though." Mollie got up and walked towards the kitchen, her long thick hair swishing around her shoulders. Burt frowned. This wasn't going at all like he had planned.

He tried to think of something smart and romantic to say, like the guys in the movies. But he had never been one for smooth talking.

The next thing he knew he was striding across the café floor towards Mollie. He took her by the wrist, and whirled her around.

Burt Hummel had kissed at least half a dozen girls since starting high school. They were all nice girls, pretty and smart. But kissing them was nothing like kissing Mollie Melrose. Her lips were soft and warm and she smelled like warm vanilla sugar and hot coffee and sweet hotcakes. Or maybe that was the usual diner smell. But in any case, he couldn't stop kissing her.

And then she pulled away and smacked him across the face. Her cheeks had gone from pink to red, and her blue-green eyes were flashing. "What was that for?" she gasped.

"Will you go to prom with me?" he blurted out.

She smiled, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly.

_October of 1990_

Someone grabbed him by the ankle and tugged him out from under the Range Rover. He blinked, adjusting to the sudden light of the garage, and grinned. "Hey, Mollie," he said.

"Hi," she said brightly, leaning over him with her hands on the hood of the car. "I brought you lunch."

He got up and wiped his greasy hands on his coveralls. "I packed my own," he protested.

Mollie hopped up on his chest of tools and carefully arranged the red pleated skirt of her cheerleading uniform. "You mean three Twinkies, a bag of chips, and a root beer?" she said. "And of course this is following your breakfast of champions."

"Hey, I've had a coke and slim jims for breakfast every morning since I started high school," he said.

She put the brown paper bag in his hand. "You're not in high school anymore, Burt, you're a college guy," she grinned.

"Junior college," he corrected.

"Still college," she countered. "Eat your lunch."

He opened it up and scowled. "What is this?" he asked.

"Don't give me that face," she said. "It's turkey and cheddar on whole wheat, plus an apple and a bag of pretzels." He frowned. "And some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies." "I guess that's okay," he said. He sat down and took a bite out of his sandwich. "it's pretty good."

"Thanks," she said. She leaned over and put her ear close to his cassette player. "Really? Mellencamp again?"

"He's good," he defended.

"I'll give you that, but can't you listen to somebody else?" she said exasperated. "Honestly. Now I know what I'm getting you for Christmas this year. Mix tapes. I'm going to broaden your horizons."

He shook his head and changed the subject. "How's cheerleading going?"

"It's good," she said, beaming. "Really good. I mean, it's only junior varsity, but I'm that much closer to being a real Cheerio."

He squeezed her knee. "You'll be on the varsity squad next year," he promised. "You're good. You'll have to make it."

"I hope so," she said. Her watch beeped and she checked it. "I have to run. Mom will kill me if I miss another piano lesson."

He stood up and kissed her on the lips; her hands wound into his collar. Reluctantly he pulled away. "You'd better run," he said.

Burt lifted her down from the tool chest. "I'll see you later, okay?" she said.

She walked away, her short red skirt swinging around her curvy hips. "Okay," he mumbled.

_Oh, God bless whoever invented that skirt, _he thought.

_July of 1991_

He hadn't been to the creek since the summer he graduated from high school. But everyone from McKinley seemed to gather there in the summer. They came for the cold water and the ancient rope swing, and stayed for the bonfires. Some of the harder-edged kids brought wine coolers and stolen cigarettes. Inevitably, though, it was where the cool kids hung out. Getting asked to the creek was like a golden ticked to the upper ring of McKinley popularity.

Burt stretched out on the grass a few yards from the muddy creek banks. The football stars of McKinley whooped and hollered as they flung themselves into the brackish water, making fools of themselves for the sakes of the girls preening in the cool shadows of the tall old trees. He liked to think that they all looked young compared to him, now that he was nearly twenty and in college.

He watched the girls lazing in the shade. They were all slender and pretty, most of them with waving hair tied back with scrunchies. Mollie stood in the middle of the group, standing close to her best friend, recent graduate and former fellow Cheerio Mary Elizabeth Grayson.

Even if he hadn't been her boyfriend and biased, Burt was confident that was Mollie was the prettiest. Her long hair was tied into two braids that hung over her narrow shoulders, and she was dressed in a china blue bikini that showed off her soft, slender curves.

He frowned. _I wonder why she's still stuck with me_, he thought. She was a Cheerio now. She could date anybody if she wanted to. The star quarterback, maybe.

Mollie strolled across the banks of the creek and sat down beside him in the cool grass. "Are you bored?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's weird," he said. "I used to come here every summer…now I feel like I don't belong here."

She extended her short, slender legs out in front of her and leaned forward in a stretch. "We don't have to stay," she said. "Mary Elizabeth didn't want to go without me. But really, she's only here to flirt with Charlie Sloane. She won't notice if I leave."

He admired the curve of her nearly bare back. "We can stay," he said. "At least for a while."

She smiled, her dimples popping in her cheeks, then leaned in to kiss him.

He wasn't that bad of a catch, when he thought about it. After all, he was a college guy. And a football player. Maybe, if you thought about it, he could be considered a football star.

Yeah. There were plenty of reasons for Mollie to be interested in him.

_January of 1992_

"Hey, cradle robber!" He rolled his eyes and sat down in the stands. It had been a while since he had been in the school stadium. Heck, last time he was here, he was playing. But Mollie had been begging him to come see her cheer, and for once he wasn't at the garage, a night class, or one of his own games.

It took him a minute to pick Mollie out of the small sea of girls in red, but there she was, her curled ponytail bouncing. She was leaning over the railing into the stands, talking to a tall thin woman with short brown hair and a big, burly man in a jean jacket. Burt recognized Mollie's parents and shrank a little further into his seat. They weren't too happy that their sixteen-year-old daughter was dating a twenty-year-old college kid, even though they had been together for a year and a half.

"Hey, Hummel! You're a cradle robber!"

He turned around and glared at the speaker. His heckler blanched and scooted away. He recognized that kid. Nate Karofsky had been a shrimpy sophomore on the football team when he had been a senior. Apparently he now thought of himself as the big man on campus.

The Cheerios ran onto the field for the halftime routine. He kept his eyes trained on Mollie. She was one of the smallest girls on the squad, so she was usually the one tossed in the air. It made him nervous. He just knew that one of these days they wouldn't catch her.

But they finished the routine without incident and he leaned back, smiling, as she ran back to the sidelines and caught his eye. She jumped up and down, waving, calling his name.

He was lucky to have her.

_November of 1992_

One minute he was running down the field, the next he was lying his back, staring up at the night sky. He saw the coach leaning over him; he blinked blearily.

"Burt? Burt!"

He saw Mollie lean into his line of vision, her big blue-green eyes coming slowly into focus. Her hair swung over her shoulder and brushed his cheek.

"Moll?" he mumbled.

She pulled off her gloves. "It's me," she said, pressing her small warm hands against his cheeks. "Do you remember what happened?"

He frowned. "Somebody tackled me," he mumbled.

She nodded. "You're going to be okay," she reassured him, gripping his hands tightly in hers. "You'll be okay." Burt winced as the team therapist tried to move his leg. Sure, he might turn out okay. But he was beginning to get the sneaking suspicion that football was going to be out of the question- at least for a while. Maybe forever.

As his heart began to sink, Mollie bent over him and pressed her lips over and over again to his cheek. "I won't go anywhere," she promised.

He gripped her hand, and he knew she wasn't lying.

_May of 1993_

The spring night was cool and damp from rain. He sprawled out in the back of the pickup truck, his elbows resting on the old quilts he'd spread out. Mollie sat beside him, her soft hair tumbling in artfully careless curls down her bare back. Her seafoam green tulle prom dress surrounded her like a cloud. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed.

"What was that for?" Burt asked.

"I don't know," she said, resting her chin on her folded forearms. "I'm just…happy, I guess."

Burt studied her profile in the moonlight, the stubborn set of her chin, the upturned tilt of her nose, her large eyes- ocean eyes, he thought privately, when he was in a rare romantic mood. He never told her that, though.

She plucked at one of the pink organdy roses on her dress. "I can't believe I'm going to be a senior next year," she said.

"I can't believe I'm going to graduate from college next year," he added. "Without playing football."

She reached over and squeezed his knee. "It doesn't matter," she said. "You'll have your degree soon. And you've got your job at the garage."

"Yeah, but I want to do more than that," he said. "Maybe I can coach football. I could do that with a bum knee, right?"

"Of course," she said.

He reached up and stroked his fingertips lightly on her bare arm. "What about you?" he said. "What are you going to do when you're out of school?"

Mollie gazed in the distance, her smile soft and far away. "I want to have adventures," she said. "I'm going to go to Europe."

"Painting and playing the piano?" he guessed, grinning.

"Maybe," she said, tossing her head sassily.

"And what about us?" he asked.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "What about us?"

"How do we work into each other's plans?" Burt said. "I mean, if I'm going to coach football, and you're going to travel through Europe, where does that leave us?"

Molle laid down beside him, propping her head up on her hand. "I'm not sure," she said. "We've made it three years so far. I bet we can wait a couple more."

He reached up and twined a curl of her hair around his finger. "Don't forget me when you're in Europe," he said quietly.

She leaned closer. "Don't forget me when you're busy with football," she whispered.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him, and kissed her gently. Her silky hair fell around him like a curtain, and her skin was soft and warm, and she smelled good, like strawberries and caramel popcorn, and before he knew it she was unbuttoning his shirt and he was unzipping her dress.

Sex was nothing like the movies. In movies, it was fast and hot and seamless, without words. But in reality, it was slow and clumsy and even slightly painful. He found himself wondering why he had spent years listening to dirty locker room talk, wishing he could join in with his own experiences, when it was nothing like what the other jocks boasted.

But even though sex wasn't like he expected, it wasn't bad. Far from it. There was something different about this, almost sacred, in Mollie's skin touching his and the soft noises she made only for him. And when it got good…it was really, really good.

When they finished, she nestled into his side, her head tucked against his broad shoulder and her hair streaming over his chest. He closed his arms protectively around her and listened to the sounds of her breathing and found himself fighting the overwhelming feeling that he could push everything else to the wayside if he could just keep everything just the way it was.

_July of 1993_

He tugged uncomfortably at his tie. It was the middle of the day, in the middle of the summer, and he was in a suit. _Charlie Sloane had better be grateful that I showed up, _he thought.

It was weird attending a wedding for one of his old football teammates. Charlie was the same age as him. There was no way they could be old enough to get married, right?

That's what everyone did in Lima, though. After high school, the guys would half-heartedly attend college, maybe get a business degree or something, then end up working with their dads in Lima. The girls only went to college long enough to find a husband, then got started on a baby as soon as possible. Charlie Sloane and Mary Elizabeth Grayson were only the latest in a long line of history repeating.

He tuned out the minister's speech and kept his eyes on Mollie. Sometimes he wondered why Mollie was even friends with Mary Elizabeth. The older girl was sharp-tongued and selfish, but for some reason she had always been friends with his sweet, open-hearted girlfriend.

And he had to admit that Mollie was the best-looking bridesmaid in the wedding. She wore a long buttercup yellow dress with daisies tucked into her braided hair, like the other girls; somehow, though, she just seemed prettier than the rest of them. She looked kind of like a milkmaid, but in a cute way.

Burt leaned back against the church pew and grinned. He had entertained the idea of marrying Mollie for a long time, but now that they'd taken their relationship to the next level, he was sure of it. Just not any time soon, though.

They'd wait a few more years. He would graduate from college and look for a job coaching football- maybe start out as an intern, and then work his way up to assistant and then full-time. She would travel the world, going on adventures in all those fancy old museums she talked about, playing the piano and painting pictures.

And then, when the time was right, they'd settle down. There was plenty of time for marriage and babies. Why not make something of themselves first?

Belatedly he realized the wedding ceremony was over and everyone else was standing up for Charlie and Mary Elizabeth to exit. He stood up, tugging the hem of his suit jacket. The bridesmaids followed, escorted by the groomsmen. Mollie walked by him, her eyes shining. He winked at her, and her smile grew even bigger.

Yeah. Someday, he was going to marry that girl.

Just not right now.

_October of 1993_

"Burt? Did you hear me?"

He sat down heavily on the back bumper of the pickup truck he was repairing, the sounds of the other mechanics working on cars buzzing in his ears. For a second he felt dizzy.

But no, it was just a normal day at the garage. His girlfriend had just stopped by after school to see him before she headed off to cheerleading practice. He'd pick her up after practice, of course, and take her out for something to eat before taking her home. And maybe they'd park behind the reservoir and make out for a while.

Yeah, that was it. Just a normal afternoon.

"Burt?"

He looked up. Mollie stood in front of him, her eyes wide and shining, her usually rosy face pale. Her hands were pressed to her stomach; she looked tiny in her red cheerleading uniform.

"What?" he said.

She took a deep breath, the red ribbon in her long ponytail bouncing.

"Burt, I'm pregnant."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

It's really kind of depressing to write this, knowing that Mollie's just going to die. Gaugh, I'm sad now...

I'm writing this for a couple of reasons. Number one, I love Burt and Kurt. It drives me a little bonkers that we know so little about Kurt's mother, except that she was feisty and stubborn and wore very nice perfume. So I thought I would flesh out her character a little more.

Reason number two: Somehow I always manage to create my own canon. I reference Mollie and little anecdotes about her in pretty much every Kurt-related story I write (which, um, is all of my Glee stories so far). It'll make things a lot easier to keep straight if I write them all into an actual story.

Reason number three: No one's written about young!Burt so far. It's tricky and slightly awkward, but fun.

Also, I totally went to high school in Ohio, so this is bringing up all sorts of memories. Well, technically it was in northern Kentucky, in the tri-state area. I lived in a teeny tiny town called Independence (near Covington/Florence/Cincinnati) and went to a school that reminds me, just the slightest bit, of WMHS. Except mine was a quirky Baptist-run private school, and WMHS is a lot prettier and cleaner than CCS was...

Fun fact: I ramble too much.

In any case, tell me what you think of this story! Should I bring in some other Glee parents? And how far should I continue this story...up until Kurt's birth, or all the way through to the end?

(Right now it's going to end when baby Kurt is a few months old. But if people really like this, I'd be happy to continue!)


	2. October of 1993

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

He balanced his hands on his knees, staring at the concrete floor. "Are you sure?" he stammered.

"Really sure," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I know you're all excited about Mary Elizabeth's baby, are you sure you're not just have…I dunno, sympathy pains?" he said.

"Sympathy pains don't give you a positive pregnancy test," she said.

"You took a test?" he said. "And it's positive?"

"Three of them, actually," she sighed. "Three different brands. All positive."

He looked up slowly. "You're going to have a baby," he said.

Mollie still held her hands against her flat stomach. "We're going to have a baby," she corrected.

He took off his baseball cap and dropped it on the tool chest beside him. "There's no way," he said. "I mean, we…we used protection, didn't we?"

"Condoms can break," she said. "And there's no way I could go on birth control. My parents would freak out."

"So you're sure," he said.

She nodded. "Really, really sure," she said. "I throw up half a dozen times a day, I have to pee every five minutes, and, well, my period hasn't shown up since-"

Burt raised a hand. "That might be a little too much information," he said. He put his hands on her hips and tugged her towards him. "So we're going to have a baby."

"Uh-huh."

"You and me…having a baby."

She nodded, biting her lip.

Burt finally grinned. "I'm going to be a daddy," he said. He paused. "Wait. Are you…are you going to keep it?"

"I want to," she confessed. "I…I know I don't want an abortion. I just don't know if we can keep the baby ourselves, or if I should give it up for adoption."

"Wait, so…should we get married?" he said.

"Maybe," she said. "I don't know. Should we?"

"I don't know," he said. He grinned, squeezing her hips lightly. "I guess we'll have to figure that out. We have a lot to figure out."

She nodded and glanced up at the clock. "I'm late for cheerleading practice," she said, twisting away from him.

He stood up. "Wait, you're still cheering?"

She tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. "Nobody can know yet," she said. "And if I stop showing up to practice, people are going to start wondering." She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"You'd better," he warned.

She picked up her duffel bag. "Pick me up at six?" she asked.

"Sure."

She danced out of the garage, practically skipping. Burt sank back down to the bumper and stared off into the distance, zoning out until the garage manager had to yell to get his attention and get him back to work.

_October of 1993_

He hated hospitals.

Mollie seemed unperturbed, flipping through a magazine with one hand balanced on his knee. He rested his hand on his elbow and studied her, jiggling one leg anxiously up and down.

She was wearing a plain pink top and a denim skirt instead of her cheerleading uniform, and her hair was tied back with a pink ribbon. She looked incredibly young, and his heart sank.

_Her parents are going to kill me_, he thought.

He stared at her stomach. She still looked as slender and flat as always. He tried to picture what she would look like pregnant. Well, not that she wasn't pregnant already, but what she would look like at nine months.

"Burt. Stop staring at my belly. The baby's not going to magically pop out."

He sat up. "What are you going to look like pregnant?" he blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow. "I _am _pregnant," she pointed out.

"No, I mean…" He gestured. "You know. Nine months."

She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I've never been pregnant before."

A nurse walked into the waiting room with a clipboard. "Mollie Melrose?" she called.

Burt helped her stand up; she batted his hands away. "I'm not waddling yet," she said.

He trailed behind her to the door. The nurse looked him up and down. "Are you the father?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said.

The nurse held the door open. "Come on in," she said. She checked Mollie's information and took down her weight, then ushered them into an examining room. "Wait here. The doctor will be right with you."

"Thank you," Mollie said as the door closed behind her. Burt picked her up and set her on the table. "Burt! Not an invalid!"

"I know, I just…" He pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his ash blond hair. "I don't know I should be doing."

She smiled. "Just sit and be patient," she said. She leaned back onto the table and folded her hands across her flat stomach. He sat down beside her on the rolling stool and stared at the little plastic models of babies and birth canals. It was weird.

It seemed like an eternity before the doctor came in. "Hi, Mollie," she said, smiling warmly. "I'm Dr. Allan." She offered her hand and Mollie shook it. "And this is?"

"This is Burt Hummel, my boyfriend," she said.

Dr. Allan shook his hand too. "Pleasure to meet you," she said. "Are you in high school too?"

"No, no, I'm about to graduate from college," he said.

Dr. Allan moved over Mollie while they talked, checking her belly. "Well, that's good," she said. "Do you have any plans made already? Are you keeping the baby, or considering adoption?"

"We're not really sure," she said.

"That's fine, that's fine," Dr. Allan said. "You've got some time to think about it." She pulled out a tube of blue gel. "Let's take a look at this baby of yours, shall we?"

Burt rolled a little closer to Mollie and took her by the hand. "This is going to be a little cold, honey, sorry," Dr. Allan said.

Mollie made a face as the doctor squirted the blue gel over her belly. She turned her head towards Burt, her eyes shining. "Are you scared?" she whispered.

"Uh…no, no, not really," he lied.

"Good," she whispered. "I'll be scared for both of us."

The doctor ran the ultrasound wand over Mollie's flat stomach. "Look here," Dr. Allan said. "There's your baby."

Burt looked up at the screen. He didn't really see much at first, just a grayish blob in a black blob. But the longer he stared, the better he could see it- the little head and the little arms and the little legs.

There was actually a baby in there.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked.

Dr. Allan laughed. "It's a little too soon to tell," she said. "You'll have to wait until about she's about twenty weeks along."

Mollie squeezed his hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers. "That's our baby," she whispered. "Burt, we're going to have a baby."

He raised their interlocked hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. If he had been a romantic poetry sort of guy, he would have said something nice, but he wasn't, so he just held her hand against his cheek.

"Well, Mollie, judging by the size of the fetus, you're at about ten weeks," Dr. Allan said. "You'll probably start showing very soon."

She pulled her hand away from Burt's and propped herself up on her elbows. "Hold up," Mollie said. "Ten weeks?"

"You didn't think you were that far along?" Dr. Allan said.

"I thought maybe six weeks," she said.

Dr. Allan shook her head. "No, you're at about ten weeks," she said. "You conceived in early August." Mollie turned slowly to look at Burt, her mouth at a small round O. Burt ducked his head, hiding his blush. Early August…the before-school camping trip…sneaking off to the pier beside the lake…

Dr. Allan laughed softly. "No need to be embarrassed," she said. "But whatever fun you had, you're going to get a permanent reminder of it sometime in May."

"A spring baby," Mollie breathed. She frowned. "I wonder if the baby can wait to be born until after graduation. Going into labor during commencement might be a little disruptive."

Burt choked.

"I'm glad you're still going to keep up with your schooling," Dr. Allan said. "So many girls your age give up." "No, she's too stubborn to give up," Burt said. She flashed a grin at him.

Dr. Allan asked Mollie a barrage of questions about a whole slew of things he never wanted to know about her- things likes vomiting and nausea and food aversions and fatigue, but eventually the appointment was over and he was walking her back to his truck.

"Are you really craving mango milkshakes?" he asked curiously. "Is that even a thing?"

She laughed, flopping back in the passenger seat. "I don't know, but I want one," she said. "It just sounds really, really good."

"Do you think the ice cream place off Spencer Road'll have them?" he asked.

She put her hand on his arm. "You'd really take me to a girly ice cream shop?" she said.

He shrugged. "I got you pregnant, I could at least get you a milkshake," he said.

She laughed again, leaning against his arm while he drove and kissing his shoulder. Turns out the ice cream place didn't make mango milkshakes, but Mollie was distracted by a chocolate toffee sundae with extra whipped cream (and absolutely _no _cherries). He made her laugh while she ate her treat and he took her home before it got dark. It was like any normal date.

But as he idled in her driveway, waiting to see her unlock the door and get in safely, it slowly sank in that this wasn't going to be normal for long. They were going o have to find a new normal, a normal that included a baby.

_October of 1993: Twelve Weeks_

"So when's she due?"

Burt stopped dead in his tracks. He could still Mollie walking slowly down the path from his front door to her little car in the dark. She turned and waved; he waved back woodenly, still surprised.

"Burt Hummel, close the door and answer me," his mother said from behind him, quietly but firmly.

He obeyed and turned around slowly. "Almost twelve weeks," he said miserably. "How could you tell?"

She sat down on the couch. "She's usually so bouncy and fussy about her food," she said. "Tonight, she slept through the football game on TV, didn't touch her dinner but ate three desserts, and had to get up to go to the bathroom four times in an hour."

Burt still couldn't move. His mother sat back and smiled. "Besides, she's got that glow," she said. "She looks really happy, Burt."

Kathy Hummel was never really the sort of woman who could be described as beautiful, but at the moment, Burt thought she never looked prettier. "You're not mad?" he said tentatively, as if he was ten instead of twenty-two.

She shook her head. "I'm not mad, son," Kathy said. "Disappointed. Real disappointed. You were going to be the first Hummel to finish college."

"I'm still going to finish," he protested. "And Mollie's already sworn to finish high school."

"I hope so," she said. "That girl's always been a bundle of dreams. I'd hate to think that you were the one to take them all away."

She patted the seat beside her on the couch and he sat. The relief was overwhelming. "I won't," he said. "I definitely won't."

"So what are you going to do about the baby?" Kathy asked.

Burt shrugged. "We don't know," he said. "Maybe adoption."

"Honey, there's no reason you and Mollie should give your baby away to a stranger," she said. "If you two can't take care of it, I wouldn't mind. That's my grandbaby."

"We've talked a little about getting married," he admitted.

Kathy nodded. "You're a little young, but I don't see anything wrong with it," she said. "I was twenty-two when I married your dad, same as you are now. We didn't have a baby right off, but still. You two can make it."

He sighed heavily. "I hope so," he said. He started to relax, until a new thought popped into his head. "Does Dad know yet?

"I told him my suspicions."

He swallowed hard. "And?"

"And he's out back, working on the Chevy," Kathy said.

He gritted his teeth. That wasn't a good sign. "I guess I should talk to him," he said.

"I guess you should," she said. "Go on and get it over with."

He got up slowly and made his way out to the shed behind the house. His dad was notorious for turning to his cars when emotions of any kind surfaced. He just wasn't all that great about them.

Burt walked out to the shed. "Hey, Dad," he called, slightly hesitant.

"Hey, kid," he said, still behind the open hood of the vintage truck.

Burt shoved his hands in his pockets. "You need a hand with that?" he offered.

"Nope. Doing fine."

Burt waited as long as he dared, then cleared his throat. "So, you…uh, you talked to Mom?" he said.

"Uh-huh." The engine parts clinked noisily as he fiddled with the carburetor. "So?"

"She's right."

There was a long pause. The hood slammed down loudly. Burt winced. His father walked out from behind the truck, wiping his greasy hands on an old towel. Eli Hummel was not a man to be messed with on a good day. He dreaded to think what his father might do.

"You gonna take care of that little girl?" Eli asked gruffly.

"I'm going to do my best," Burt said.

Eli turned back to the car. "Hand me that wrench, will you?" he said.

He handed it over, relieved. Things were going to be okay after all.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This is short, but I needed to segue into Burt and Mollie informing Mollie's parents about the baby. And they're, uh, not going to be happy. But I've figured what Mollie's going to do, and it's going to be pretty awesome. Plus, I wanted to show Burt's family in this chapter. I figured that they would react the same way that Burt would if Kurt announced he'd gotten a girl pregnant. He'd be like "Uh...okay. What are you going to do? How can I support you? Okay, now I'm going to leave and flip out for a moment, but I'll be right back and we can discuss this."

(ohmahgah, now I really want to write a story about Kurt getting a girl pregnant! Even though...that would be...um, impossible. Mostly.)

Just out of curiosity, what do you think Kurt's mother was like? I'm sure everyone has wildly different opinions...

Also, I've decided that this will go pretty far into Kurt's childhood. So tell me...what cute little!Kurt moments do you want to see?

The precious level is set to ridiculous.

But I have to kill off Mollie in the end. It's going to be depressing...


	3. November and December of 1993

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

**November of 1993 (Fifteen Weeks)**

He sat backwards on the chair at her desk, his arms folded across the back. "Aren't you done yet?" he teased.

Mollie held up a warning hand, keeping her eyes trained on the French textbook open on her lap. She listened intently to the tape playing on her walkman, occasionally mouthing along. Burt smiled, studying her while she lounged on her bed. Her thin tee shirt clung to her stomach, outlining her tiny baby bump. It was barely noticeable, unless you knew to look for it.

She pressed eject and popped the cassette tape out of the walkman, then pulled the headphones off her ears. "It told me to flip over for side two, but I suppose I can wait," she said.

"Is that for your class?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "Just for fun."

He made a face. "You're studying French just for fun?" he repeated skeptically.

She slid the cassette back in its case. "I need to stay fluent if I'm ever going to Europe," she shrugged.

He smiled. "Still planning on your trip?" he said.

She leaned back against the pillows of her blue-and-yellow bed and raised her arms above her head, stretching. "Of course," she said. "I can't leave right after graduation like I planned, but I bet I can do it in a few years."

"And what will I do?" he asked.

"Come with me, of course."

He laughed. "Really?" he said. "You really think I'll fit in in Europe? I don't think we're looking at the same person."

Mollie brushed her hair back. "There's more to you than a good ol' Midwest boy, you know," she said.

He reached over and squeezed her ankle. "Molls, I was born in Ohio and I'm probably going to die in Ohio," he said. "Most people don't ever leave here, and I don't think I ever will."

"That doesn't mean you can't visit other places," she pointed out. She patted her little baby bump. "Maybe the baby will want to go to Europe. _B__é__b__è__, voulez-vous aller __á__ Paris avec Maman_?"

"Oh, please, don't teach the baby French," Burt groaned. "Because then he can talk to you in French, and I won't know what's going on, and that's just not fair, Mollie."

"You could always learn French," she said, her eyes dancing.

"Yeah, right," he snorted. "I took high school Spanish. Remember how well that went?"

She laughed, but the sound was cut off by the slamming of a downstairs door. "My parents are home," she said, her voice dropping to a startled whisper.

His stomach twisted. "Are you sure you want to this?" he said.

She slid off the bed and picked up a cardigan; it was just baggy enough to hide the telltale bump. "I'm sure," she said. "I want to tell them on my terms, not wait for them to find out."

He followed her downstairs, his heart thunking dismally in his ribcage. Despite Mollie's optimism, he knew deep down that this wasn't going to end well. Her parents had never liked him in the first place; they were going to hate the fact that their precious, perfect daughter was pregnant with his child.

"Hi, Mollie," her mother said as she unpacked groceries on the kitchen counter. "How was school, sweetheart?"

"It was fine," Mollie said, leaning her elbows on the counter. She glanced back. "Burt's here."

Karen glanced up. "Hi, Burt," she said.

"Hi, Mrs. Melrose," he said, feeling twelve instead of twenty-two.

Karen busied herself with putting butter and eggs in the refrigerator. "Your dad's bringing in the last of the groceries, and then we're going to go to TGI Friday's for dinner," she said. "How does that sound?"

"Fine," Mollie said. Burt glanced at her; she barely even sounded nervous. "Can we talk first before we go?"

"Talk about what?" Mollie's father said as he lugged paper sacks into the kitchen. "This about your Europe trip?"

"No, not really," Mollie said. "Can we sit down and talk about this?"

"Sure," Jacob said. Mollie sat down on her usual seat at the kitchen table; Burt pulled up an extra chair and sat as close as he dared.

"Go ahead and start, I just want to get these put away," Karen said, crisscrossing through the kitchen.

Mollie folded her hands, set them on the table, and took a deep breath. "Before I say anything, I want you to know that I don't consider this a mistake," she said softly.

Jacob frowned as he sat down across from her. "What isn't a mistake, honey?" he asked.

Mollie bit her lip. "I'm…I'm…" She took another deep breath, and for the first time since she told him the news, Burt saw tears in her blue-green eyes. "I'm going to have a baby," she whispered.

Time seemed to stand still. Burt glanced surreptitiously from his teary-eyed girlfriend to her shocked father to her stunned mother. And like he suspected, Karen was the first to react.

"Dammit, Mollie, we raised you better than this," she said, slamming her hands down on the counter.

"Karen," Jacob warned. He reached across the table and put his big hands over his daughter's small ones. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?"

She nodded. "I'm at fifteen weeks now," she whispered.

"Fifteen?" Karen choked. "You're in your second trimester already?"

"I didn't find out until I was already at ten," she said. Her voice was breathy, but her tears hadn't spilled over. "I know you're disappointed. I'm sorry."

"Mollie, you're a smart girl," Jacob said. "Why didn't you wait? Why didn't you use protection?"

"We did, it just…I guess it broke, and we didn't figure it out fast enough," Mollie said.

Karen rounded on Burt. "You're the father?" she demanded.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Of course he is, Mom," Mollie said.

Karen laughed bitterly. "I knew I didn't want you dating a boy four years older than you," she said. "He pressured you into this, didn't he?"

"I would never do that," Burt argued.

Mollie shook her head, her long hair swishing around her shoulders. "He didn't force me into anything," she said. "I chose this. I did."

"Honey, you might have made the decision to have sex, but you didn't choose to a have a baby," Karen said. She drummed her fingers on the counter. "Fifteen weeks. That's not too late."

"Too late for what?" Burt asked.

Karen picked up the telephone book. "I'll make an appointment for you for tomorrow," she said. "First thing in the morning. You can take a week off from school to recover if you want."

"Recover?" Mollie repeated, her eyes going wide.

"Karen, that's not how we raised her," Jacobsaid sharply. "I know you've never been religious, but we agreed when Mollie was born that we would raise her in the Catholic church. And they take a very dim stance on abortion, you know that."

"If God can't forgive a scared seventeen-year-old for getting rid of a baby she doesn't want, I take a very dim stance on him," Karen retorted.

"Stop it!" Mollie shouted. She looked from one parent to the other, her fair skin going blotchy. "I'm not getting an abortion."

Dave relaxed. "Honey, we'll get you through this," he said. "And we'll help you pick a nice pair of adoptive parents for the baby. Maybe they'll even allow an open adoption, so you can see it on occasion."

"I'm not giving our baby up for adoption," she said, her voice quiet. "You don't get to make this decision."

"You're only seventeen, Iris Margaret," Karen snapped. "You are still our child. You don't have a say in this matter."

"I don't?" Mollie said. "I don't have control over my own body? Why don't I get to decide?" She stood up, the cardigan sliding away from her tiny baby bump. "Burt and I already decided. We're going to get married and raise the baby ourselves."

Karen choked. "You're what?"

"My parents have already offered to help out," Burt said quietly. "I graduate from college in May, and I've got a steady job at the garage."

"Oh, no," Karen said, shaking her head. "Oh, no. Mollie, you aren't going to do this." She crossed to her daughter in a few quick strides and lifted her chin. "Honey, what about all your dreams? You're just going to let them go?"

"Of course not," Mollie said. "They've just changed a little, that's all. I'm going to keep this baby." She reached over and grabbed Burt's hand; he squeezed her cold fingers. "We're going to be good parents."

Karen pulled Mollie's hand away. "You're just a baby yourself," she said. "Mollie, I will pay for an abortion. I will get you through this pregnancy if you agree to give it up for adoption. But I'll be damned if you throw your life away over this."

Burt stood up, knocking his chair over. "I would never let Mollie ruin her life," he said, his voice rising. "Sure, we didn't plan to have a baby, but now we are, and I'm going to take care of them both."

"You kids are too young to raise a baby," Jacob cut in. "And Mollie doesn't even have her high school diploma yet."

"But I'm not stupid," Mollie interrupted. "I've already figured out what I'm going to do. The elementary school is going to hire me on as a teacher's aide for the art and music classes. And they'll help me pay for college, so once I have my degree I can teach full time."

Burt stared at her. "You already thought about that?" he said. She shrugged.

"So you're just going to give everything up?" Karen said. She laughed bitterly. "Your dad and I broke our necks putting you through music lessons, doing everything we could to give you the best, and you're just going to give up and be a Lima loser's baby mama."

"I am going to _marry _her," Burt shouted, slamming his fists on the kitchen table. "I love Mollie! I always have."

Karen whirled around. "It'll be a cold day in hell before you marry my kid," he said. "Get out of my house."

"Karen-" Jacob started to say.

"Get out!" Karen screamed.

Burt grabbed his coat and stomped out, slamming the front door behind him. It was dark and freezing outside, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Mollie was gone, and their baby too. It was over.

"Burt! _Burt!"_

He turned around to see Mollie running out of the front door, without shoes or a coat, her hair flying around her shoulders. "What are you doing?" he sputtered.

She flung her arms around his waist and buried her face in the front of his shirt. "They can't do this," she said. "They can't, they just can't."

He wrapped his arms around her as she burst into tears. "Hey, don't cry, little girl," he said, his voice softening. "It's okay. We'll figure something out."

She pulled back, wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her cardigan. "I'll be eighteen next month," she blurted out.

He cupped her face in his hands and smeared her tears around her cheeks in an effort to dry them. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"If I'm eighteen, I'm old enough to get married without my parents' permission," she said. Her ocean eyes started to shine in the streetlamp lights. "And I really, _really _want to marry you."

He blinked. "You want to get married…behind your parents' back?" he said. "Are you serious?"

"Really serious," she said. "I want to be your wife. I want us to raise our baby together."

He took her by the shoulders. "Moll, you've done really well with the plans so far, but I think the baby hormones have gotten to your brain," he said. "We're going to get married…and then what? You'll live with your parents, and I'll live with mine, and then you'll have the baby…and then what?"

She scowled. "I don't know," she said. Her chin trembled. "Don't you want to marry me?"

"Yes, of course, Mollie," he said. "But we need to think this through."

She backed up, scowling fiercely at him with tears still shining in her eyes. "Just think about it, Burt Hummel," she said. "Figure out if you're going to marry me or not, and let me know what your decision is."

She turned on her heel and marched back into the house, her arms crossed over her chest. "Moll!" he called. "Mollie!"

She ignored him and shut the front door firmly, blocking him out. He slumped against the hood of his pickup and sighed heavily.

**November of 1993 (Seventeen Weeks)**

He sat in his usual corner table at the Brass Kettle, drumming his fingers against his water glass. His waitress, a middle-aged woman named Agatha, smiled down at him. "She'll come around at some point," she reassured him.

He sighed. "I've been coming here every night for a week," he said. "She won't talk to me."

The kitchen doors swung open and Mollie strolled out with a plate. Her pink dress was popping a bit at the front, and her apron wasn't doing much to hide the baby bump. She sashayed past him, swinging her hair over her shoulder. Burt huffed noisily.

"Want another piece of pie?" Agatha suggested.

"No," he said. "No, I think this is beyond pie."

He stood up and took off his baseball cap. "Mollie," he said loudly, raising his voice over the usual sound of chatter and silverware clinking. She glanced at him coolly over her shoulder.

He cleared his throat and strode out into the middle of the dinner. "Mollie," he repeated. He faltered slightly. People were staring at him now. "Mollie…"

"Yes, that's my name," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I've never really been one for all those romantic speech things," he said. "I could probably try something from a movie or something, but it, uh, it wouldn't really be me, you know?"

She turned around all the way, her eyes softening. The diner fell silent, and he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. "I really love you, Mollie," he said simply. "I've loved you since high school, and I don't think anything could ever change that."

She approached him shyly, a blush spreading across her cheeks, her black-and-white saddle shoes squeaking. "I know we weren't going to do this until we were older," he said. "But I love you, and I'm pretty sure you love me, so…"

He bent down on one knee and fumbled in his pocket for the little black velvet box. Mollie just smiled, her eyes shining. He opened the box clumsily. "So, will you marry me, Mollie Melrose?" he asked.

She nodded. "Definitely," she said. She bubbled out into a laugh. "Yes, I definitely want to marry you."

He stood up and tugged the ring out of the box while the diner patrons burst out into applause. She held out her slim left hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger. "It's not very fancy," he apologized.

She lifted her hand towards the light, admiring the simple solitaire diamond on its curved white gold band. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "Burt, it's beautiful."

"Are you just going to stare at her, or are you going to kiss her?" Agatha said.

Burt cupped Mollie's face in his hands and touched his lips gently to hers. She twined her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. For a moment he forgot that he was in public, surrounded by strangers, and he kissed her soundly.

**December 12, 1993 (Nineteen Weeks)**

He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he stood by the desk in the justice of the peace's office, the marriage license half-filled out. "You been stood up, honey?" the secretary asked.

"No, no, she's coming," he said. He glanced at his watch. She was supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago.

The doors opened, and Charlie and Mary Elizabeth Sloane walked in. "Sorry," Charlie said. "You try getting two pregnant girls into a car." "Gee, thanks, Charlie," Mary Elizabeth huffed. She was weeks away from her due date, and pregnancy didn't look it had been kind to her. Burt blanched slightly.

But then Mollie walked in, and he forgot everything else. She was wearing a white lace dress with a blue sash, and her long hair curled softly to the middle of her back. "Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Hi," he stammered. "You look…you look…"

"She looks _pregnant,_" the secretary interrupted. "And young. How old are you, baby?"

"Eighteen," Mollie said, frowning. "And it's none of your business."

The secretary shook her head. "Well, you two finish filling out the license," she said. "I'll let the judge know you're ready. You got your witnesses?"

Charlie raised his hand. "That's us," he said. The secretary disappeared into the judge's office.

Mollie bent over the desk and wrote in her information on the marriage license in smooth, round cursive. Mary Elizabeth made a face. "I hope this doesn't last too long," she said. "This baby keeps squishing my bladder."

Charlie squeezed her arm. "It'll be fine," he reassured her. Mary Elizabeth pulled out of his grasp.

The secretary opened the door. "The judge is ready for you," she said.

"Wait, wait," Mary Elizabeth said, opening up her purse. "You're not a real bride without a veil." She slid the clear plastic comb into Mollie's hair and fluffed the white blusher she'd worn at her own wedding around her shoulders. She smiled. "See, now you're a bride."

Mollie smiled and tucked her hand into Burt's. "Thanks," she said.

The judge was waiting for them in his office, the wedding ceremony book in his hands. "So you're Burt and Mollie," he said, smiling at them like a benevolent grandfather would. "Come on, you two. Let's get this started."

He took her soft warm hands. She smiled brightly at him, her excitement radiating as the judge began the ceremony. He didn't hear much of what the judge was saying, to be honest. All he could see was Mollie. Happy, pretty Mollie.

_I can't actually be marrying her, am I?_

"Do you, Burt Thomas Hummel, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the judge asked.

He blinked, coming back to reality. "I do," he stammered, and slid the white gold band onto her finger.

"And do you, Iris Margaret Melrose, take this man to be lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," she said, her voice sounding sweeter and more musical than she had ever sounded before.

"Then by the power vested in me by the state of Ohio, I now pronounce you man and wife," the judge said. "You may kiss the bride."

Mollie rose up on her toes. He kissed her gently, carefully, breathing in the scent of her perfume, and she kissed him back.

Charlie whistled. "Come up for air, buddy!" he laughed.

Burt pulled away, his hands still on Mollie's waist. Mary Elizabeth clapped her hands, and Mollie laughed. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel," the judge said.

"Oh my goodness, I'm Mrs. Hummel," she said. "Mollie Hummel. That's so weird!"

Burt laughed and pulled her towards him. "Kind of," he said.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Well, you two can go enjoy being married," he said. "I'd better get this one home before she pops."

Mary Elizabeth scowled. "I'm not going to have this baby today, Charlie Sloane," she said.

"I know, I know, you're just…" Charlie sighed. "C'mon, Mary Beth."

Burt wrapped his arm around Mollie's waist. "Let's go," he said. "Mrs. Hummel."

She giggled, turning her head against his shoulder as they walked out of the courthouse. "This is just so weird," she said again. "An hour ago I was sneaking out of history class. Now I'm married."

He kissed her on the temple. "I guess cutting school for your own wedding is a decent excuse," he grinned. "You want to go back there?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Not much of a wedding reception," she said.

He helped her into the passenger seat of his truck. "How about lunch at the Brass Kettle?" he suggested. "I bet they'd give us a discount."

She laughed. "They'd better," she said.

They ended up spending the entire afternoon at the diner, getting fussed over by Mollie's coworkers, who all took turns telling them what a wonderful thing marriage was, and how happy they were going to be, and speculating on whether their baby was going to be a boy or a girl. Mollie kept laughing, her cheeks flushed and her lips pink. Burt couldn't take his eyes off her.

They stayed until it started to get dark, and he realized he had to get her home before her parents started to wonder where she was. She changed out of her white party dress and into her Cheerios uniform at the restaurant, her friends teasing her about how nobody could see that she was pregnant now.

Burt drove her home in the dark while she sang along to the radio and admired her new ring in the moonlight. But when they were a block from her house, she slipped the rings off her finger and onto a blue ribbon while he parked.

"Are you sure I can't walk you up to the house?" he asked for the millionth time.

She tied the ribbon around her neck and hid the rings under the top of her uniform. "My parents won't like it," she said.

He groaned. "They're going to kill us when they find out," he said.

She shrugged into her navy hooded jacket. "They'll find out when the baby's born," she said serenely. "They won't be able to do anything about it then."

He kissed her softly. "Be careful walking on the ice," he said.

"I will," she said.

She slipped out of the car and walked down the sidewalk, her hands in her pockets. She turned to wave and blew him a kiss. He felt sort of dumb, but he blew one back, watching her longingly as she turned the corner onto her street.

This wasn't exactly how he imagined his wedding night to be.

**December 25, 1993 (Twenty Weeks)**

He sprawled across the couch, watching the football game sleepily. His dad lounged in his recliner. Christmas at the Hummel house ran like clockwork every year; they'd already unwrapped the presents and eaten the late afternoon Christmas dinner. Now it was time to watch football and sleep it off.

If Christmas had gone the way he planned, he would be with Mollie, celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple, maybe in an apartment of their own. But no, not only was their marriage still a secret, but she was at her grandparents' house in Kentucky. He didn't even have a chance to meet her somewhere for a few minutes.

It was making him a little mopey, to say the least.

His mother walked into the living room. "Who's winning?" she asked.

Burt yawned. "Oh, I'm not really paying attention," he said, crossing his arms across his stomach.

Kathy patted his shoulder. "Missing Mollie?" she said sympathetically.

"Yeah, well, you know," he mumbled.

She handed him a flat, rectangular box wrapped in shiny paper. "She figured you would, so she gave me this before she left," she said.

"What is it?" he said, shaking it experimentally.

Kathy squeezed his shoulders. "Just open it," she said.

He ripped at the red paper and opened the nondescript white cardboard box. There was a blue blanket inside, soft and thick and edged in wide silky ribbon. "What's this for?" he said. He picked it up and shook it out. There was something underneath it, a manila envelope. He draped the blanket over his knees and opened the envelope.

A large black and white photograph slid out, accompanied by a note. He glanced at the ultrasound photo, and then at the note.

_You'd better start thinking of boy names, Daddy! We'll need one by May. Love, Mollie._

Burt blinked and looked back at the photo. "It's a boy?" he said.

His dad looked up from the game, grinning. "Congratulations, son," he said.

"Mollie went in for an ultrasound the day before she left for Kentucky," Kathy said, beaming brightly. "I'm going to have a grandson!"

Burt stared at the ultrasound photo. "It's a boy," he said again. "I can't believe it…she's having a boy. I'm going to have a son."

He glanced up at the television as the crowd roared in approval of a touchdown, and his vision blurred slightly when he realized that next year, on the next Christmas, he would be watching the game with his son in his arms.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Burt and Mollie are just adorable. So, so, _so _adorable. And now they're married! Secretly! With a baby boy on the way!

Oh mah gah. I think I might have to write something about Burt sitting Kurt down when he's about twelve or so and explain about his birth. "Well, you see, son, you were conceived on accident during a camping trip. And your mom was a senior in high school. And of course we had to get married secretly, since your grandparents didn't want you."

So much drama. Love it.

But yeah!

Also, if you think the "married-in-secret" thing is too hokey...that actually happened to my friend's grandparents! Her grandmother was still in high school, so they got married and kept a secret for a couple of years. Crazy!

But I really can't wait until baby Kurt is born. It's going to be adorable to the millionth degree.


	4. January to March of 1994

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

**January of 1994 (Twenty-four Weeks)**

Burt leaned back in the front seat of his truck, waiting for his girlfriend to leave school.

_Wife_, he reminded himself. _She's your wife._

It was hard to feel married when your wife was in high school. And lived in her parents' house. And no one could know they were married.

He sighed heavily. He wished with all his might that he could go back in time and do right by Mollie. She deserved to go to college and travel like she wanted. He could've stayed behind, saved money, waited for her. He could have given her a real wedding. Their first child could have been celebrated, instead of hidden.

But there was no going back now.

Burt tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sat up straighter as he recognized Mollie amongst the students trickling out of the McKinley doors, her sky blue winter coat easy to spot in the crowd. He revved the engine and turned on the heat, waiting impatiently for her to cross the parking lot and reach his truck.

But she stopped on the sidewalk, talking to a cheerleader and some jock in a letterman's jacket. Even from his distance he could tell she was angry by the way she held herself- chin up and her fists at her sides. The jock looked like he was yelling at her.

"Like hell he is," Burt mumbled under his breath, jumping out of the truck and slamming the door behind him. He marched though the snow towards them. "Hey! You. Yeah, you. What the hell do you think you're doing?" The cheerleader took a step back. "She quit the Cheerios," she accused. "We've got Nationals in two months, and she quit."

"It was a personal decision," Mollie snapped.

"We have to redo all of our routines because of you," the cheerleader retorted.

"There are more important things in life than being a Cheerio," Mollie said.

"We're in high school, Melrose," the cheerleader argued. "There's nothing more important than being a cheerleader."

Burt put his hand on Mollie's arm. "Come on, Moll, let's go," he said gruffly.

"You know, it's been going around school that someone's got a bun in the oven," the jock jeered. "That true? You got her knocked up, Hummel?"

"Slut," the cheerleader sneered.

The color drained from Mollie's face. Without thinking Burt lunged for the jock, grabbing him by the collar and ramming him back against the fence, his forearm cutting into his neck. "You don't _ever _speak to my wife that way," he spat. "You understand?"

The jock spluttered under his arm, his face turning red. Burt let go, pushing him back, and took Mollie by the hand. She laced her gloved fingers through his, clutching tightly as he dragged her back to the truck.

He waited until they were both inside, the doors shut and locked. "You all right?" he asked.

Mollie pressed her fist to her mouth. "Oh my god," she whispered. "Oh my god, Burt…"

He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. "So you quit the Cheerios, huh?" he said.

"I didn't want…I didn't want to risk hurting the baby," she said, her breathing slightly labored. "And besides…I can't hide it much longer." She unbuttoned her coat and leaned back. "You can tell just by looking at me. And I am not stuffing myself into that tight uniform for vanity's sake."

Burt sighed and placed a hand on his wife's rounded belly. "It's gonna be okay," he said. "The baby's fine. You're fine. Let's just go home."

She leaned against the window, pressing her forehead to the glass. "You mean you'll take me to my house, and you'll go home to yours."

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "We don't have a choice, Moll," he said. "Your parents-"

"-are going to find out anyway," she said. She rubbed her temples. "God, we just keep arguing in circles."

He revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. "Buckle your seatbelt," he said.

She obeyed, her head still down. "You know you called me your wife in front of them," she said in a low voice.

"I didn't mean to," Burt said.

"It's going to spread over the school," she warned. "It's going to come back to my parents."

He took a deep breath. "We'll cross that bridge if we have to, all right?" he said.

He held out his hand. She reached over and took it, and he squeezed her fingers gently.

* * *

**January of 1994 (Twenty-five Weeks)**

Burt surveyed the labor and delivery ward warily. It was unsettling to know that in a few months he would be here again, not to visit somebody else's new kid but to have his own. He swallowed hard.

Mollie, however, was in her element. She gazed around the hall with wide eyes, smiling wistfully. For some reason she seemed especially young today, with her long waving hair drawn back softly at the nape of her neck and her pink dress clinging to her rounded baby bump.

"I can't believe Mary Elizabeth had her baby," Mollie sighed. "Ella is gorgeous."

Burt wanted to tell her that Ella seemed like a very ordinary baby, red and squooshy-faced and squalling, but now didn't seem to be a good time. "Do they always come out so small?" he said instead.

Mollie laughed. "Burt, Ella's big for a baby," she said. "Ten pounds is immense for a baby."

Burt frowned. "So how big is our kid gonna be?" he asked.

She linked her arm through his. "The average birth weight is usually around seven or eight pounds," she said.

"So like…a kid's bowling ball," Burt said.

"Yes…I suppose," she said. "Just…less round. And with arms and legs. And a head. That's very important."

Burt exhaled slowly. "God, I don't know what I'm gonna do with a baby," he said. "I mean, I held Ella for about three minutes and I thought I was going to drop her the whole time. I think Mary Elizabeth was about to kill me."

"You'll be fine," Mollie reassured him. She linked her fingers through his. "See, a mother feels like a mother while she's still carrying her baby. But a father…he doesn't feel quite like a daddy until his baby in his arms."

They walked down the hall and paused outside the wide glass picture window barricading them from the nursery. Without saying anything they stopped and gazed inside at the rows of plastic cribs, each one cradling a soft little pink or blue bundle.

"Oh, Burt," Mollie sighed. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "In a few months, our baby will be sleeping here."

Burt didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't have the same sweet sentiments. He definitely didn't tell her that he had never felt so terrified in his life.

He couldn't imagine taking one of those tiny, innocent bundles home to keep. None of them should come home with him. He was twenty-two, clever with a car but clumsy with everything else. He didn't know anything, much less about a baby.

_I don't think I was cut out to be a dad, _he thought.

But he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he brushed a kiss on the top of Mollie's head. "C'mon, let's get you home," he said.

* * *

**February of 1994 (Twenty-Eight weeks)**

Burt was half asleep, staring at his ceiling and running through the different steps on how to change the oil in a Corvette in an effort to bore himself out of insomnia, when he got the phone call.

He grumbled under his breath and reached for the jangling phone on his nightstand. "H'llo, Hummels," he mumbled.

"Burt?"

He sat up. "Mollie?" he said, his heart skipping a beat. "Mollie, hon, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you in labor?"

"Burt, I…I need you to come get me," she whispered, her voice crackling in the receiver.

He pushed the covers back and grabbed at the clothes strewn over his floor. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "What the hell's going on?"

"My mother found my wedding ring."

He stopped, his jeans hanging around his hips. "Fuck," he swore softly. "Okay. Okay, I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

"The pay phone down the street from my house," she said. "Burt, they kicked me out. They…oh my god, Burt, I can't do this."

"Then let me," he said. "Don't cry. I'll be right there. Stay where you are, okay?" He tucked the phone against his shoulder as he pulled on his flannel shirt. "I love you, Mollie."

"I love you too," she said. "Please…come soon."

He dropped the phone on his bed and ran down the stairs two at a time. In one quick move he grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and bolted out of the house, not bothering to lock up. The drive to the Melrose place usually took about fifteen minutes. Burt made it in eight.

He pulled up to the curb beside the pay phone at the corner, parking crookedly, and jumped out. "Mollie?" he called.

She peeked out from behind the phone booth, arms wrapped tightly around herself. "Shit," Burt whispered. "Shit, Mollie, where's your coat?"

She smiled at him, her lips crooked and white in the glare of the streetlights. "They didn't give me a chance to get it," she said.

His heart stopped beating. In two quick strides he crossed to her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms so tightly around her he lost feeling in his fingers. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair. "It's going to be okay. We'll talk this whole thing out tomorrow. Come home with me."

She twined her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, her whole body shaking and her rounded belly pressing against him. "I'm scared," she sobbed. "Burt, I'm scared. I'm so scared."

He tangled his fingers in her hair. "I know," he said. "I am too." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, tasting her tears on her soft lips. "But you're not Mollie Melrose anymore. You're Mollie Hummel. And nobody, not nobody, pushes the Hummels around." He kissed her again, then guided her to the front seat of his truck. "C'mon. Let's go home."

They drove home in silence, Mollie clutching his hand across the center gearshift as she shivered. When they got to his house he helped her out of the truck, neither of them speaking, and guided her into the house.

She followed him to his room, her steps careful on the stairs. He turned on the bedside lamp and pulled some of his clean clothes from his chest of drawers. She changed slowly from her snow-damp dress and slush-drenched shoes, keeping her eyes down. He tugged her long hair free from the collar of his tee shirt and led her to the bed, laying down beside her as she settled under the blankets.

Mollie huddled in his arms, and for the first time since their wedding two months earlier, Burt fell asleep with his wife beside him.

* * *

**February of 1994 (Twenty-Nine Weeks)**

"I wish my mother would stop making us run her errands for her," Burt grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know," Mollie said. "I don't mind it." She elbowed him playfully. "It'll be good practice for when we're on our own."

He sighed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring out at the road. As much as he wanted to move out to a real house and start his family off right, there was no way they could afford anything more than a crappy apartment, not with all the impending bills for the baby. So no, a home of their own would have to wait.

He cleared his throat. "So, what's next on my mother's list?" he asked.

Mollie pulled the folded paper out of her coat pocket. "She wants us to go to this address," she said, holding it up for him to see. "She wants us to pick something up."

He scowled. "Seriously? That's halfway across town from my parents' house," he said. "Fine."

He reached over and flipped on the radio to a country station. Mollie wrinkled her nose. "Oh my god, not this," she said. She opened up the glove compartment and rummaged around until she found a cassette tape. "Aha! I knew I made you a mix tape." She popped it in and smiled. "See? So much better."

"I like my music," he protested.

"The baby doesn't," she retorted. "You start playing that country stuff or whatever and he starts kicking." She patted her belly. "You're trying to tell Daddy to cut it out, aren't you, darlin'?"

Burt sighed. "Maybe he likes country and he's excited," he suggested.

Mollie scowled. "I think not," she said. She smoothed her hand over her immense baby bump. "You know, we really ought to come up with a name for this little guy."

"Yeah, at some point," Burt said.

He glanced over at her as she looked out the window and sang along to the tape, her hand patting her belly in time to the music. _It's not fair, _he thought angrily. _She doesn't deserve this._

It had been two weeks since she moved in with him and his family. Two weeks since she started wearing her wedding band on her ring finger instead of hiding it under her shirt and started flaunting her baby bump instead of layering in oversized clothing. Two weeks since he and his father had driven to the Melrose house and silently packed up Mollie's belongings while her parents ignored them.

_She doesn't deserve this_, he thought again.

He drove to the address his mother had written down and pulled up to the curb of a pleasant little blue house with black shutters. "Who lives here?" Mollie asked, sliding out of the cab.

"Beats me," he shrugged. "But my mom's car's here, so who knows?"

They walked up the path leading to the front door and Burt knocked. In a moment his mother answered, grinning at him. "Hey, kids," she said. "Come on in."

Burt frowned. "Why'd you make us drive out here to pick something up if you're already here?" he said.

Kathy rummaged in the back pocket of her faded jeans and pulled out two gold keys. "Here you go, son," she said. "One for you, one for Mollie."

Burt stared at her, mouth agape. Mollie blinked. "What…what the hell…"

"Your dad and I started college funds for you and your brother, just in case," Kathy explained. "Neither of you went, and Andy's real settled out in Iowa, so…we put the money towards this house. It's a lease-to-own, so you've got to pay some money down each month, but your dad crunched the numbers. You're making good money at the garage, and as long as Mollie takes that job in the fall, you two should be just fine."

Mollie covered her mouth with her hands. Burt stared at the keys in his palm. "Mom, this is…"

"This is nothing," she said. "You two kids have gone through enough. Might as well have something go right for once." She hugged him tightly, then turned to kiss Mollie on the cheek. "There's a room upstairs that'll make a real good nursery."

Kathy patted them both on the shoulders and headed out of the house, humming tunelessly to herself. Mollie buried her face and burst into tears. "Oh my god, Burt, it's perfect," she sobbed.

He couldn't help but laugh as he tugged her close. "You haven't even looked at it past the living room," he chided gently.

"We have a home," she said. "We can bring our baby to a real home. Our own home."

Burt's throat tightened at that, and he held her even closer.

* * *

**March of 1994: Thirty-One Weeks**

Burt sank down on the couch and flipped on the television, an icy Coke can in his hands. "Long day at the garage?" Mollie asked from her oversized armchair.

"Yup," he sighed. "How was school?"

"You know, school," she said. "Glee went well, though."

"Oh, yeah, you're playing piano for their practices now," he said.

"Rehearsals," she corrected.

"Same thing," he shrugged.

She sighed. "I wanted to join glee when I was a freshman, but my parents wouldn't let me," she said. "My parents said cheerleading would look better on a college application. Ha." She turned a page in her book, scowling as she nibbled on the straw in her glass of water.

Burt frowned. "You're in a mood," he said.

"Well, I'm sorry, I'm as big as a house and filled with coursing hormones," she snapped. "Also, morning sickness comes back during the third trimester. And your son won't stop kicking me. So…I'm not necessarily in the best of moods. Thanks ever so much for rubbing it in."

Burt swallowed hard. "So…what are you reading?" he asked meekly.

She sighed. "A book of baby names," she said, holding it up. "He's going to be here in two months, and so far he'll have to be called Baby Boy Hummel for the rest of his life."

"Well, he could always be Burt Thomas Hummel Jr.," Burt suggested.

Mollie shot him a glare.

"Okay, no," he said. He cleared his throat. "What kind of names do you like?"

"Well," she said. "I like Gabriel."

"Isn't that a girl's name?" he said.

She huffed. "What about Theodore?"

"Seriously?"

"Fine. Riley."

"That's a-"

"No, Burt, it's not a girl's name."

"How about John?" he suggested. "Or David. Sensible names."

"Everyone names their sons nice sensible things," Mollie scoffed. "I bet he'll be in kindergarten with at least two other Davids."

"What about…William?" Burt suggested desperately.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to talk about names," she said. "I'm tired. Can I use the TV?"

"Are you going to watch the Sound of Music again?" he asked warily. Mollie stuck out her lower lip and he sighed. "Fine,"

He got up and popped in the first VHS tape before settling back on the couch with his Coke and an old Popular Mechanics magazine. Mollie curled up in the armchair, her hands resting on her immensely rounded belly and her blue-green eyes soft and dreamy as she watched the movie for the umpteenth time.

Burt didn't really pay attention until all of a sudden someone said his name. "Huh?" he said, glancing up.

"No one was talking to you," Mollie said absently, eyes glued to the screen.

"But I heard-"

"Sh."

He closed his mouth and watched the screen for a minute. The seven kids in their matching outfits were marching up and introducing themselves to Julie Andrews.

_I'm Kurt. I'm incorrigible. What's incorrigible mean? _

"What about that?" Burt said suddenly.

"What about what?" she asked, pausing the movie.

"Kurt," he said. "That'd be a great name for a kid, right? Sounds like my name, but it's not-"

"It's not Burt Hummel, Jr.," Mollie said. Her eyes lit up. "Kurt. I think I like it."

He grinned. "Did we actually agree on a name?" he said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Mollie said, flipping through the name book. "I have to see what it means. We can't name our son something that means 'river in a meadow' or something stupid like that." She opened to the K's and ran her finger down the page. "Kurt. It's German, and it means…courageous and courteous." She looked up and smiled. "I think we have a name."

"Kurt Hummel," Burt grinned. "I like it."

Mollie patted her belly. "Hi, Kurt," she cooed. "Hi, Kurt, it's Mommy." She looked up at Burt and grinned. "Now we just have to agree on his middle name."

"Thomas?" Burt offered.

Mollie threw a couch pillow in his face.

* * *

**April of 1994 (Thirty-Three Weeks)**

"Hummel! Phone's for you!"

Burt wiped his hands off on a stray rag and dropped it by his work station before taking the phone. "Burt Hummel," he said abruptly.

"Mr. Hummel? This is Suzanne from Good Samaritan. Your wife was brought in to the emergency room about twenty minutes ago."

The phone nearly slipped from his grip. "Is Mollie okay?" he demanded. "How's the baby? What happened?"

"She started having contractions while she was at school," the nurse said. "We were able to get her stabilized, but she'll need to take it easy till her due date."

"And the baby?"

"The baby's fine," the nurse reassured him. "Still in there. We're going to try to keep that baby safe for as long as we can, but there's no guarantee that your wife will make it to her due date."

He sagged against the wall. "Can I come get Mollie?" he begged.

"We're going to keep her for a few hours for observation, but I think she wants you here," the nurse said. "And don't worry, hon. She'll be fine. I'll let her know you're on your way."

He mumbled a goodbye and hung up, his heart racing as his mind replayed the conversation.

_If something happened to her, I don't know what I'd do,_ he thought, snatching up his car keys and bolting from the garage without bothering to ask his boss if it was okay to leave.

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**

Long time no update, eh?

But here I am! And very excited! BECAUSE KURT WILL BE BORN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. HUZZAH.

I really love Mollie. She's so endearing to write. And Muchacha10 just drew a _beautiful _picture of Mollie and little Kurt, and asdkfjdsklfjklds, it's adorable.

My Google-fu led me to several different meanings to the name 'Kurt' so I just sort of pieced a meaning together. But it fits him, right?

And Kurt is about to be born. I am excited. SOON I WILL BE WRITING ABOUT TODDLER!KURT. SDKLJFDSLFJLKD. ADORABLE.

And feel free to suggest any ideas you'd like to see involving little Kurt and Burt and Mollie! I'll be writing up to Mollie's death, so anything between birth and his eighth birthday is fair game.


	5. April 17, 1994

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

**April 17, 1994**

_You're doing this for Mollie, you're doing this for Mollie, _Burt told himself, doing his best to refrain from jiggling his leg out of boredom. It really wasn't that bad, having to sit through church, but it really wasn't what he wanted to do, especially since this was one of the nicest, balmiest days they'd had in a while. Perfect weather for anything but being cooped up inside.

But he'd made Mollie stay home from church on Easter Sunday, after that early labor scare, and she'd pitched a fit until he promised to let her go today. He'd teased her about it, called her a "good little Catholic girl" while she rolled her eyes, but in the end here they were. He sat towards the back while he watched her sing with the choir up front, resisting the urge to lean back and close his eyes.

Apparently he wasn't very good at resisting, because the next thing he knew Mollie was poking him in the side. "Sit up!" she whispered, sinking down beside him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and draped an arm around her shoulders as she sat close to him, her hands resting on her immense baby bump. Her hair was tied back loosely at the sides, and Burt toyed lazily with the curling ends as the minister stepped up to the pulpit.

He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew Mollie was jabbing at him again. "Burt," she whispered. "Burt, we have to go."

He sat up, blinking at her. "Go where?" he repeated.

She hunched over, clutching her belly. "I think I'm in labor," she whispered.

Burt scrambled to his feet. "You're still too early!" he hissed, taking her by the hands and dragging her up.

"Well, hopefully it's just another false alarm, but _seriously, _Burt, we need to go," Mollie whispered.

As soon as they reached the foyer of the church she halted, bracing herself on a table. Burt grabbed her hand. "I'll go bring the truck around, okay?" he said. She nodded, biting down hard on her lip. Burt kissed her swiftly on the forehead and ran into the parking lot.

By the time he had screeched the truck up to the front of the church, Mollie was waiting for him by the doors, leaning heavily against the side of the building. "Oh, god, this hurts," she breathed. "Burt, my water might've broken."

"Might have?" he repeated, grabbing her by the arms and hoisting her up into the passenger seat of the truck. "You're not sure?"

She leaned back and closed her eyes as he buckled her in. "All right, so my water broke," she said.

He squeezed her knee. "You're gonna be okay," he said. "We'll get you to the hospital and you'll be fine, all right?"

He purposefully chose to pretend that the tightness in his chest didn't exist. Instead, he slammed the passenger door and ran around to the driver's seat, not even bothering with his seatbelt as he pulled out of the parking lot. He took a deep breath and headed towards the hospital. "So when'd all this start?" he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I've been having contractions on and off for a while, but I figured it was just Braxton-Hicks or something," Mollie said, leaning back and covering her eyes with her forearm. "But then I was up there singing and the baby went crazy, just kicking and moving, and then…then the contractions started for real." She inhaled sharply. "Oh, god, Burt, he's too early. He's too early. I can't be in labor yet."

"Too bad, you are," Burt said, biting back the bitter _I told you you should have stayed home _that wanted to spill out.

"He doesn't even have a middle name yet," Mollie said desperately. "I can't have a baby if I don't know what to call him!"

"Moll, it'll be fine," Burt said. "It's just-"

She suddenly bent over, biting down hard on her lip. Burt fumbled to grab onto her hand. "Contraction?" he asked. She nodded, eyes closed. He squeezed her cold fingers tightly.

"That was the biggest one so far," she gasped.

"We're almost there, just…just don't have the baby in my truck," Burt said.

"Believe me, it's not my plan," Mollie said through gritted teeth.

Burt skidded the truck into the hospital parking lot in record time, parking crookedly near the emergency room doors. He jumped out and ran around to Mollie's door, only to find her sobbing into her hands. "Hey," he said. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We're here."

"What if something's wrong with the baby?" she whispered, for once sounding like the lost, frightened eighteen-year-old she was. "He hasn't…he hasn't moved since I started feeling the contractions so strongly."

Burt tipped her chin up and kissed her on the lips. "You're going to be fine," he reassured her. He bent over and kissed her rounded belly lightly, feeling her fingertips drop briefly to the back of his neck. "And this little guy too. I promise." He straightened and lifted her out of the car. "Now let's go."

The emergency room was quiet for a Sunday morning- just the nurses at the desk and a few patients scattered throughout the waiting room. He guided Mollie up to the front desk; she leaned heavily on the countertop as the nurse glanced up. "Hi, so…I think I'm in labor," she said.

"She doesn't think she's in labor, she _is _in labor," Burt cut in. "Her water broke."

Apparently those were the magic words, because in seconds they were moving Mollie to the labor and delivery wing and getting her settled in a room. He didn't much to do after that; he stepped back and let the doctors and nurses work on that. He was just a stupid mechanic. He couldn't be any help.

Mollie leaned back against the pillows, her soft brown hair beginning to curl around her face as she sweated through another contraction. She looked like a stranger in her hospital bed, dressed in the stiff gown with an ID bracelet on her wrist and an IV strapped to her hand. "Can I just go to sleep and wake up when the baby's here?" she panted. "I don't think I can do this."

"You'll be fine," the nurse said, adjusting the IV bag. "Your OB will be here in a minute and we'll see how far along you are."

Mollie looked up at Burt, her eyes wide and greener than usual. Burt quickly took her hand. "See? You're going to be fine," he said, trying to smile. "They've got everything under control."

"What they need to get is drugs," Mollie huffed, grimacing as another contraction gripped her. "I want an epidural."

"A what?" he said helplessly.

She gripped his hand so tightly the skin turned white under her fingers. "Epidural," she said. "I want to be numb. Completely numb. Oh, god, Burt, I can't, I can't take it."

"You'll be fine," he said again, but the promise sounded weak in his own ears.

Thankfully the OB walked in, pleasant and smiling. "Well, it looks like someone's going to have a baby today," she said.

"He's early," Mollie said immediately. "Is he going to be all right?"

"We won't know for sure until he's here," Dr. Allan said. "But thirty-six weeks is perfectly fine, especially for a first baby." She tugged on a pair of latex gloves. "Now let's take a look and see how far along you are."

Burt sidled close to Mollie, sinking down to the edge of her bed while the doctor poked and prodded. He held his breath, waiting for the worst.

At last the doctor stepped back. "Well, I have good news and bad news," she said.

"What's bad?" Burt demanded, feeling Mollie's hand tighten on his. "What's wrong?"

Dr. Allan adjusted her gloves. "Mollie, you're six centimeters dilated," she said. "You're on perfect track to deliver in a few hours."

"What's the bad news?" Mollie asked desperately.

"The bad news is that the baby is breech," Dr. Allan said. "In a normal delivery, the baby's head descends first, but your baby is turned feet first."

"He can still come out though, right?" Burt said.

"Not without causing considerable distress to both the mother and the baby," Dr. Allan said.

"Well, then what are my options?" Mollie asked.

Dr. Allan folded her hands. "A lot of mothers insist on a natural birth," she said. "We can try to turn the baby, but it might not be successful. Another option is to go with a C-section."

"What's going to be the best for the baby?" Mollie asked, lifting her chin.

"The C-section," Dr. Allan said. "Between the baby's breech position and the fact that he's still early, I think it's in our best interest to get him out as soon as possible."

"Then let's do it," Mollie said. Burt glanced at her; she had gone completely pale, but her mouth was set in a firm line. "I'm ready."

Dr. Allan patted her knee. "I'll get everything started," she said. "You two should have a baby in about half an hour."

Burt stared at the floor, dazed. _I'm going to have a kid, _he thought. _No going back now, I guess._

The preparation for the surgery passed by in a blur- helping Mollie get through the epidural, walking with her down the hall to the operating room, washing up and pulling the blue paper scrubs on over his clothes. But before he had time to stop and think and let it sink in, he was sitting beside Mollie in the operating room as the doctors started the surgery.

He took her hand gently. "You all right?" he asked.

She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Tired," she said. "Sore. Scared."

"You're gonna be fine," he said for the millionth time that day. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I hope he's fine," she whispered. "If anything's wrong with the baby, I'll…I don't know what I'll do."

He kissed her knuckles lightly. "He's gonna be perfect," he said. "He's our kid, isn't he? He'll be a fighter."

Mollie smiled wearily. "I love you," she said.

"Love you too," he said.

The doctors worked steadily over Mollie, obscured behind the flimsy half-curtain, and then suddenly Dr. Allan straightened with a tiny little body in her hands. "Oh my god," Mollie gasped. "Oh my god, is that-"

Burt sat up. "Is he okay?" he demanded.

Mollie pressed back against the bed. "He's not crying," she said. "Oh, god, why isn't he crying?"

"We're sending him to the NICU to have him checked out," Dr. Allan said, leaning over the curtain. "He seems healthy, but we need to take every precaution."

Burt watched helplessly as a nurse turned away with his child in her arms. "Burt, go with him," Mollie ordered.

He looked down. "But Moll, you're-"

"I'll be fine," Mollie said. "They're just stitching me up. You have to stay with him. Stay with the baby."

"But-"

"Burt, just stop arguing and go!" Mollie said, hitting her fist weakly against the side of the operating table. "Just stay the fuck with our son!"

He glanced desperately from his young, fiery-eyed wife to the rapidly disappearing nurse. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

She closed her eyes. "Just make sure he's okay," she said. "Don't come back unless you know he's okay."

"I won't," he promised, and he took off after the nurse. He ran through the labor and delivery ward, his heart beginning to thunk against his ribs.

_What if something's wrong with my kid? _he thought. _What if something goes wrong with Mollie?_

He didn't know if he should keep going or turn back around and stay with his wife, but then he rounded the corner to the glass-walled neonatal wing, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Several nurses were working over his baby; he could see a tiny little fist waving and his heart skipped a beat. He stared into the room, eyes boring through the glass, watching until his eyes began to burn.

And then he heard a high shrill wail, and saw one of the nurses smile down at the baby.

_That's my son, _he thought.

Suddenly that high-pitched cry became the most beautiful sound in the world. Burt leaned against the wall, dropping his forehead against his arm. _Oh, god, I hope he's okay, _he thought. _Please let him be okay._

"Are you the baby's father?"

He glanced up at a round-faced nurse in dark pink scrubs. "Yeah, the…the one you just brought in," he said. "Is he okay?"

"We're running a few tests, but as far as we can see, he's healthy," the nurse said. "He's a little bit underweight and his lungs are slightly underdeveloped, but he's doing just fine. Would you like to come in and hold him?"

Burt swallowed hard. "Uh…yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, I would."

He followed the nurse inside, his heart turning over and over and over again in his chest. They surrounded a small clear plastic crib, various pieces of equipment in hand. The nurse stepped up to the crib as the others parted, and she reached inside. "Congratulations, Mr. Hummel," she said.

Burt held out his arms numbly as the nurse placed the little blue-blanketed bundle in his arms . He had been sort of expecting something like Mary Elizabeth's new kid- squash-faced and bright red, squalling lustily and flailing at him. The baby in his arms was pale and tiny- too tiny. He was sort of scared that he was holding on too tight, but at the same time he was scared to loosen his hold for fear of the baby falling.

The baby whimpered, as if he was trying to cry but he couldn't. His little fists thumped against the blankets in frustration. Instinctively Burt pulled him closer to his chest, patting the baby's side. "Hey, there, it's okay," he murmured. "It's okay, kiddo. Daddy's got you."

_Daddy._

It was the first time he'd actually called himself that.

And suddenly it all sank in.

"Hey, there, Kurt," he whispered. "I'm your daddy."

He held his baby son closer, feeling the warmth of his tiny fragile body against his chest. "We have just a couple more tests to run, and then we'll take him up to his mother," the nurse said. "I'm afraid I'll have to take him back for the moment."

"Oh," Burt said stupidly, arms still tight around the baby. "Oh. Okay."

He gingerly handed Kurt back to the nurse. "They've probably moved your wife to postpartum," she said. "We'll be up there in a bit with the baby."

"Oh," he said again. "Sure."

He glanced back at his tiny son, then headed out into the hall, already wishing he could just have his kid back. But he walked out of the NICU hall and followed the signs until he reached the postpartum wing.

It didn't take long to find Mollie's room. The nurses were getting her settled in her bed; she was paler than usual and her eyes were closed tightly. Burt felt a stab of guilt in the middle of his chest. "Hey," he said, taking her hand. "Hey, little girl. You awake?"

She opened her eyes slowly. "Where's Kurt?" she asked faintly. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Burt reassured her, sitting down beside her. "They let me hold him for a little bit."

Mollie smiled faintly. "Is he beautiful?" she whispered.

"He's perfect," Burt said fervently, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Most damn perfect baby I've ever seen."

"You've only seen like…three babies in your life," she said weakly.

"Yeah, well, I know he's perfect," Burt grinned. He brushed her hair away from her damp forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," she said. "I'm sure I'll be feeling plenty more when the drugs wear off." She rubbed at her eyes. "I just want to see him."

"I'll do you better than that. Would you like to hold him?"

Burt glanced back to see Dr. Allan wheeling in the little plastic crib, smiling broadly. Mollie's eyes lit up. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's doing just fine," Dr. Allan reassured her. "He's five pounds, two ounces, seventeen and a half inches long. A little small, but that's normal for a baby that didn't quite reach full-term."

Mollie pushed herself up like she was trying to sit; Burt quickly made her lie back and tilted the bed up. "So he's healthy," Mollie said.

"As healthy as can be expected," Dr. Allan said. "We'll keep him her for a little while for observation, but as far as we can see, he's doing just fine. You're both very lucky." She reached into the crib and picked the baby up. "Would you like to hold him?"

Mollie nodded eagerly, biting her lip. She held out her arms for the baby. "Oh," she said in a small voice as Dr. Allan placed the round blue bundle in her arms. "Oh, hello, you little darling." She bent to kiss the baby's forehead. "Hello, little boy. It's Mommy." She smiled, her throat catching. "You're the most perfect little thing in the world."

Dr. Allan smiled at them. "I'll give you a few minutes," she said. "And remember, we need to fill out his birth certificate. You'd better pick a name soon."

Mollie kissed the tip of the baby's nose. "Kurt," she said. "That has to be his first name. And not just because we picked it out earlier. He just…looks like a Kurt."

Burt kissed her cheek. "What about his middle name?" he asked.

Mollie traced the baby's soft little lips with her fingertip. "He needs something soft and pretty, I think," she said. "Something lyrical, to balance out his first name."

"You wanna pick one of those names you like?" Burt asked. "You know I don't like a lot of them, but if there's one you really want…"

She patted Kurt lightly. "Well, he doesn't seem like a Gabriel, and I know you don't like that one," she said. "Or Riley, even though he's a good little Irish boy."

"Only half Irish," Burt corrected. "He's half German too."

He watched as Mollie trailed her fingertip along the contours of the baby's face- the straight little slope of his nose, his rosy lips, his soft cheeks- and smoothed the light dusting of chestnut hair on his little head. "Elijah," she said dreamily. "He just…seems like an Elijah."

"Kurt Elijah Hummel," Burt tried. "Yeah. Yeah, that's pretty good. That'll work."

Mollie smiled at the sleepy-eyed baby in her arms. "Hi, Kurt Elijah," she said. She kissed him softly. "Your daddy and I love you very, very much." Kurt batted at his mother's hand with one tiny fist, and Burt grinned foolishly at him.

A few hours ago, he was just Burt Hummel, Lima loser. A college dropout working a mechanic. Nothing of any real importance.

Now he was Burt Hummel, and he was somebody's daddy.

He leaned into to kiss Mollie, cradling her close with his lips firm and warm against hers, and slid an arm under the little blue bundle she cradled to her chest. He had never been a man of many words, and it seemed like the few he could muster had failed him.

"I love you," Mollie said, smiling up at him, sleepy and angelic.

"Love you too," he stammered back, and baby Kurt cooed happily at them.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

YAY! KURT IS BORN!

Please forgive any inaccuracies. I did as much research as I could, but seeing as how the hubster and I do not have a baby yet, there's only so much I can write.

BUT YAY. THIS HAS BEEN MY HEADCANON FOR LIKE FOREVER.

Also, a note on Burt and Mollie's religious background: In my headcanon, Burt was raised as a special-occasion Lutheran- basically, his family considered themselves Lutheran, but they only went to church on Christmas and Easter and the odd Sunday. Mollie's mother was apathetic, but her father was a devout Catholic and insisted that Mollie be raised as such. So she was definitely the good little Catholic girl growing up, but after getting kicked out of her house she started veering more Protestant. And then you'll see how religion figures into their family as the story goes on. Please don't be mad at me for including this! I know Kurt is an atheist, and I don't plan on going against that, but I feel that Burt and Mollie came from their own sorts of religious backgrounds.

But yeah. So. Kurt has been born! Yay! And he's little and mostly healthy and perfect. Also, he's pale instead of red like most babies because he was born by C-section. Just thought I'd explain that here since I didn't get a chance in the narrative.

Originally the story was going to stop around here, but it's not! I'm going to write about Kurt's babyhood and toddlerhood and childhood, all the way up to Mollie's death. Although...even then, I might write more with Burt raising him alone. I don't know. It just all depends on if people want to read it! I don't want to overstay my welcome.

And feel free to suggest things you'd like to see! I have a very, very nice little outline planned out so far, and I think you'll like seeing little bitty Kurt growing up.


End file.
